Condemned
by Marie Turtle
Summary: AU - Gemma is a young veteran trying to have a balanced normal life, until she goes on the worst blind date ever with a demon. A blue-eyed angel steps in, turning her carefully crafted life on its head. With the help of Jo Harvelle, Gemma is on her way to being a hunter, and maybe something more. **Does not follow the canon timeline** **I own nothing** **Please review**
1. Chapter 1

"So, you decided to join a dating site. How are you still single?"

Gemma bit back a cringe and hid her distaste behind a wine glass. Y_es, because making me feel like a loser for having neither a boyfriend or enough pride to avoid online dating is the key to my heart._

"Just busy I guess," she dropped her eyes to her plate. Another disappointing dinner with another disappointing Mike. Well, this one was Mike. Like everyone else she'd met in the past six months, he was tall, good looking, successful and smarmy beyond belief.

Mike checked his watch. Again. Then ceremoniously pulled out a black American Express, waving it for her, the waitstaff and every other diner to see.

He let the silence hang for a moment, boring his hazel eyes at her in what he must have thought was a soulful gaze.

"You are really beautiful."

_Buddy, that's just your reflection in the window_.

"Thank you," Gemma forced out with a tight-lipped smile. She had tried really hard that night. He seemed so funny and nice in his profile. He invited her to one of the nicest restaurants in town.

Now her low-cut black dress made her feel silly. She could see her perfectly curled ash blonde tendrils draping over her shoulder. It had taken her an hour just to fix her unruly hair.

Mike probably couldn't say what color her hair was.

"Shall we?" he asked, rising before she could respond and holding out his hand.

Gemma took it graciously and followed him out into the night.

Her heels echoed off the concrete and she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. The parking lot was silent and empty. Strange for such a busy restaurant.

"My car is parked over there," she gestured lamely to the other side of the lot. Par for the course, Mike hadn't bothered to ask. He'd just marched her into the lot toward his Jaguar. Gemma knew he had a Jaguar because he talked about it for twenty minutes.

"Don't you wanna take a ride with me?" he asked, flashing his white teeth and opening the passenger door of the slick black sports car.

Gemma clutched her small purse between her hands, shifting backwards. "No, I'm sorry. I totally forgot that I have this huge meeting in the morning. I really should be getting home."

"I'll get you home before you turn into a pumpkin," Mike chuckled. He was still smiling, but his eyes were blank.

Her heart rate increased and she felt sweat building up on her palms. _No no no no_, her body screamed at her. "I had a really great time tonight, but if it's all the same to you..."

"Get your ass in the fucking car," Mike's smile dropped. His arm lashed out like a snake before she could take another step backward, clamping down on her arm and jerking her toward the waiting passenger seat.

Gemma screeched in surprise and pain, reeling away and scratching at his chiseled face. Mike roared in pain, shoving her into the ground and cursing at her.

Stars filled Gemma's eyes and a sharp ringing flooded her hearing. The world became a dangerous tilt-a-whirl and she could only barely make out Mike's figure lurching toward her.

Then the ringing intensified. The stars became a white hot flash of light.

And wings. Like a giant bird had just flapped to her side. _Great, I'm brain damaged and going to die. Thanks a lot, _.

Slipping in and out of consciousness on the pavement, Gemma dreamt of a battle. Mike was fighting another man and it was epic. Their bodies slammed into cars, the ground and anything in their way, smashing it all to bits.

Then smoke. Then Mike crumpled to the ground.

Then bright blue eyes came into momentary focus. Warmth and safety replaced the throbbing pain in her head and gut-wrenching fear.

Then it all went black.

Gemma could still hear the booming of titans fighting.

_God, what kind of drugs did I do last night_?

She stretched cautiously, still unwilling to open her eyes lest she get hit over the head by a hangover. The scratchy comforter and sagging mattress made Gemma catch her breath.

This was not her bed.

"How are you feeling?" a deep, dry voice broke the silence.

_This is not happening_.

Gemma shot up, looking wildly around the room. _This is not my apartment_, she felt her breath rise in uneven gasps as she tried to put together the previous night and her unfamiliar surroundings.

_And that is not Mike_.

"Who the hell are you and where am I?" she spat, curling herself into the corner of the bed farthest from where the man sat.

His blue eyes were so familiar. The stranger's dark brow furrowed in concern and he seemed disappointed by her reaction.

"You have no recollection of the last 24 hours?"

She stayed silent, her green eyes growing wider by the second. Gemma's breaths became shorter and shallower, and the clammy sweat returned to her palms.

"You need to calm down or you'll faint again," he said plainly. "This is a safe house. You will not be harmed here."

Without warning the man was on his feet, moving silently out of the room. A moment later he returned with a glass of water.

Gemma stared at his calloused hand, darting her eyes between his face and the drink.

"You should drink water. You haven't ingested any in a day."

With a shaky grasp, she took the glass, sipping and spilling down her chest in turns.

The man's brow furrowed again, and he stood silently over her huddled form watching her attempts at hydration.

"I am Castiel. I was assigned to watch over you two days ago."

"Assign...assigned? What? What does that mean? Who are you?" Gemma stammered, pushing herself further into the headboard.

"You are in great danger. You have to trust me."

_Cute or not, this guy is nuts_.

Gemma darted a sideways glance to the phone on the nightstand across the room. _Now or never_.

She chucked the glass at the man's face and scrambled off the other side of the bed.

In a blink, Castiel was back in front of her, blocking her path, now dripping water down the front of his white button down.

"How-how did you do that?"

"I am here to protect you," he insisted.

"You keep saying that, but this feels a whole lot like kidnapping. What the hell do you want?"

A muscle twitched in Castiel's jaw. "I want you to stay in this room until I tell you it's safe."

Considering her options, Gemma sat back down on the bed. Then an idea struck her.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Do I have permission to go to the bathroom?" she locked eyes with him and could have sworn she saw embarrassment flash across Castiel's face, before he hardened back into expressionless stone.

"Yes." Without another word he stepped out of her way and sat in a plain wooden chair near the main door.

Closing the door behind her, Gemma breathed a sigh of relief. There was a window. She turned on the faucet, then paused before opening the window.

Sprinting down the road, Gemma felt sillier than ever about the dress.

Dread ran through her as she took in her surroundings. It looked like a ghost town. Of course this is where a psychopath would hide her; there wouldn't be anyone around.

The sound of a diesel engine grew louder as she ran, until she saw the glint of headlights in the road.

Gemma threw her arms into the air as she ran, screaming "help" as loud as her lungs would permit.

"Woah there, sweetheart, you alright?" the portly driver said, stepping out his truck.

"Please, you have to get me to a police station!" Gemma cried, nearly barreling into him.

"I can do you one better than that," he grinned toothlessly at her and his eyes flashed to blackness. "You still look really pretty."

Horror struck her dumb, but the man already had his hands on her shoulders.

"We got some unfinished business, little lady, and I want to take my time with you," his breath stank of alcohol and rotting eggs and the absence of toothpaste.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She still felt uneasy on her feet, exhausted from her escape attempt, and utterly confused. A chorus of _why me? _circulated through her head.

"Let her go," Castiel's voice cracked through her latest attacker's laughter.

"You know, I would, but," the man turned her so her back was against his chest, an nuzzled his face into her hair and neck before continuing, "she just smells so good."

Tears mixed with wracking sobs, and Gemma felt her stomach heave while the man took a generous tour of her torso.

"Oh we got big plans for this little one. Don't worry, angel, I'll keep her in one piece for ya."

Tightly-wound anger rolled off Castiel in waves. Her sobs stopped and she watched the quiet, serious man.

Like he had in the safe house, Castiel flashed to a new location in a blink. Before Gemma could grasp where he had gone, a sword rammed through the trucker's chest, barely missing her.

"I told you to let her go," Castiel whispered coldly as the trucker's eyes flashed from black to blue, before something inside him seemed to burn out. The fat trucker dropped to the ground in a heap, leaving Gemma off balance and confused. Oh so confused.

A friendlier set of arms caught her before Gemma fell, too.

"And I told you not to leave," he said, softer now, but still angry.

"What was that?"

"A demon."

"And what are you?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."


	2. Chapter 2

"An angel?" Gemma sat heavily back on the sagging mattress, taking a fresh glass of water from Castiel's outstretched hand. "An angel angel? Like Clarence, you can't get your wings until you teach Jimmy Stewart how import he is, halo, wings, talking to shepherds?"

"I do not know a Clarence or Jimmy Stewart, and the imagery you reference is flawed. Humans cannot behold our true form. But yes, I am an angel. I am a warrior for the Lord."

"A warrior for the Lord?"

"That is what I said." Castiel sat back down in the chair, having moved it closer to the bed.

"And demons are real? You fight demons?"

"Among many other dark creatures, yes."

"Well what do I have to do with it? What was that guy talking about?"

"I don't know. I only learned of your presence two days ago when I was instructed to watch you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're very dry?"

"Dry?"

"Never mind."

"I have not lived among humans for thousands of years. As warriors, angels do not express strong emotions. We prize stoicism and obedience and faith. If that makes me 'dry' as you say, then so be it."

Gemma sipped on her water, feeling the need for a stronger beverage.

"Can you find out why they're after me?"

Castiel paused, considering his words. "Yes, but I need to wait. I can't leave you unguarded like this. So I will will have to wait for further instructions."

Gemma sat back on the bed, closing her eyes. _What a weird day_.

"When you feel better, we have to move to a new location," Castiel interrupted her thoughts.

"You said this was safe," Gemma shot an accusatory glare.

"I also told you not to leave. As soon as you left the protection of this house, the demons caught your scent. Now they will know where to look for you."

Gemma looked away, angry and ashamed, her mind reeling from the events that had turned her world upside down.

"I have a job, you know. And friends. They're going to look for me."

Castiel blinked. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"My...my loss?" Gemma sputtered back at him. "So my life is just over now? I can never go back?"

"Most likely not." Castiel rose and glided over to her, holding out his hand. "Take my hand, it's time to go."

_Maybe I can run again..._.

"That would be unwise," Castiel interjected. "Please don't make me carry you."

Gemma gasped, "You know what I'm thinking?"

"No, but your body language is very clear. Please take my hand."

She focused intently on his outstretched palm, trying to keep her mind from darting to her most embarrassing thoughts and memories. It was rough and made her keenly aware of the tininess of her own hands.

When her hand touched his, she felt a shock run all the way from her fingertips to her toes. Castiel's subtle, but sharp intake of breath told her that he felt it, too.

In a blink, their surroundings changed. Gemma jumped back and tripped over a couch, falling into its cushions.

Castiel hurried to her side, concern awash over his face. "Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes caught a flash of leg and her now hiked up dress. Castiel flushed and averted his eyes, but couldn't seem to decide what to do with himself: help her sit up or run out of the room?

"A word, Castiel?" a male voice broke the awkward silence, causing Gemma to jump to her feet, righting her dress as she went.

With a look that she assumed he meant to be apologetic, Castiel strode out of the room with the other man, an older, balding man in a suit who smiled placatingly at her.

_Smarmy_.

"Why is she here?"

"The demon tried to force her into his vehicle, I had to intervene."

_For two angels_, she assumed the balding a-hole must be the superior Castiel had mentioned, _they sure aren't subtle_. Gemma pulled an afghan off the couch and wrapped herself in it, settling in to eavesdrop on the conversation in the next room.

"Your instructions were to watch her and report back. Period."

"The demon obviously intended her harm, I was supposed to just let him have her?"

"Now the demon is dead and we still don't know what they want with her. This has been a colossal waste. I'm going to return her to her home and assign someone else to continue the mission."

Silence loomed. Gemma hadn't taken Castiel to be a rule-breaker, but anyone who wanted to return her to her life was okay in her book.

Maybe she could even make it to work on time tomorrow.

"I don't think that would be wise."

"I don't think you ignoring my orders was wise, yet here we are. Go. I'll handle it from here."

"Zachariah, I would like to-"

"Now."

A rustling sound fluttered through the room and Zachariah returned to the room. Alone.

"Would you like to go home?" He proffered his hand toward her. Suddenly the idea didn't seem all that great. Gemma felt her skin crawl. If she took his hand, something told her she wouldn't just be going home. She'd also be getting a used lemon.

But her bed, a warm shower and clean clothes called louder than her nagging repulsion. Plus that whole remaining gainfully employed thing. Gemma did enjoy food and electricity.

She took his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, looks like it went well with Mike," the younger brunette giggled from the file cabinet in the corner.

"Huh?" Gemma jerked away from her computer.

"Mike, your date. Look at you. You're all untucked and tardy," Melissa winked and went back to her desk.

"Mike? Mike. Oh no," Gemma flushed. "Not well at all, just not feeling all that great."

A hot shower, glass of wine and comatose sleep the night before couldn't convince her that the previous days had been a very intense dream.

She barely woke up to her blaring alarm and couldn't focus long enough to tame her wild curls. Gemma barely even noticed her drive to work.

"Oh. Well shoot, you should have called in. Wait, you should have called me. What happened?"

"Missy, calling in is not an option for Boss-Lady. It doesn't matter. Another bust. Do you have copies of those permits?"

"Boss-Lady" may not seem like the greatest job title in the world, but Gemma had spent ten years to get to where she was: the big desk in the job site office.

Four years in the Navy as a Seabee, four years of college and on-the-job training, two years at the construction management company putting in ungodly hours and she was now a site manager for a new hotel near the beach.

It was a lot more than anyone ever told her she'd get when she was in foster care.

A metal-on-metal clang from outside sent Gemma reeling from her desk.

"Holy shit, Gemma, are you okay?" Melissa rose to look outside the window. "Just pipes. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I'm gonna go take a walk around the site, see how the team is holding up. Get some fresh air."

Melissa was still looking at her like she might start drooling and hallucinating when Gemma hurried into the California sunshine with a hard hat and notepad.

In retrospect, her general paranoia might make walking around an active construction zone a bad idea, but she was committed now.

Small talk, notes about broken tools, needed supplies and possible design flaws let her tune out the weirdness of her weekend. Angels? Demons? Seriously? Too bad her health care plan didn't cover psychiatry.

She was so focused on making notes that she didn't notice she was completely alone until he spoke.

"You need to be more careful, Gemma."

She shrieked and clamped a hand over her mouth, turning toward the deep – now familiar – voice.

"I'm sorry to startle you like this, but I don't have much time," said Castiel. "They are going to let the demons get near you. You need to know what you're up against."

She could barely hear him over the sight he made. His previously clean trench coat and white button down were matted with blood. His chiseled jaw was bruised and cut, and one bright blue eye was obscured by a swelling wound.

_Did I just think the word 'chiseled'...?_ "What the hell happened to you?"

"It's not important. The demons will try again. I don't know what they want, but I think they want to offer you a deal. You cannot take it."

"What do you mean they want to offer me a deal? A deal about what? I don't have anything."

"We don't know. But you have to understand that anything they offer you will come at a steep price, most likely your life. You cannot trust them, no matter how convincing they seem."

"Why don't you just smoke them out again like you did last time? What if they do want to hurt me?"

Castiel shook his head, looking anywhere but toward her face. "I can't. I can't explain now, I don't have time. Your life is in danger and the angels who will be watching you may not intervene next time. Keep holy water on you at all times, I can-" a sharp ringing pierced the air and Castiel abruptly stepped away. "I'm sorry."

With a feathery rustle he was gone again.

Gemma pursed her lips. Maybe a sick day was a good idea after all.

As she walked off the job site, she pulled out her notebook again.

_Holy water, find priest?_ She jotted next to her day's notes.

"I'm sorry, miss, what did you need this for again?" the elderly priest queried as he passed her the small plastic bottle with a cross on it.

"Um, you know, I want to, um, make sure my house is good and holy." _Oh God, Gemma, seriously_?

"And you wanted some literature about angels and demons?"

Gemma nodded lamely, hoping against hope the priest wasn't about to call the cops and have her committed.

"I'm going to give you this phone number, as well. Someone who might be able to help you out with whatever it is you're dealing with."

"Thanks," Gemma graciously took the handwritten phone number and dusty volumes. "I'll get these books back to you."

"Please see that you do. They're very old." The old man smiled at her and Gemma got the distinct impression she was being mocked. Or maybe pitied. Probably both. "Just tell her Father Langley gave you her number. She'll know what it's about."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm the last one to get the joke here?"

Father Langley smiled again. "Don't worry. The Lord doesn't give us mountains we can't climb."

Gemma sat in her apartment staring at the neatly printed phone number, wondering if she was insane. Who was she about to call? What would she say? Maybe it was just a hotline to the nearest mental hospital.

The books had quickly overwhelmed her. The drawings alone would give her nightmares for days. But the words, _perdition, Lucifer, archangels, smite_. It was too much. The thought that she might be dealing with some of the things in those books was horrifying enough, let alone not knowing just how she fit into the puzzle.

She held her breath, pressed the numbers into her phone, and looked away when she hit "dial."

"Harvelle's Roadhouse."

"Hi, um, did you say 'Roadhouse?'"

"Yup."

Silence.

"I, um, Father Langley gave me this number," Gemma fumbled.

"Father Langley? In Santa Barbara?"

"Yes. He said you could help me."

"Can you give me the Cliff's Notes, we got a lot of customers in here."

"This is going to sound nuts..."

"Try me," the dry, female voice on the other end was surrounded by masculine chatter and the distinct sounds of glasses on a wooden bar top, pool balls clacking together and a country jukebox.

"An angel said that demons are after me but he can't help me and I don't know what to do," the words tumbled out.

Silence.

"I'll send someone to you. Give her a couple days. Try not to die before then."

A quick exchange of information, and the woman, an Ellen, assured her that an experienced "hunter" would be there within two days.

Gemma didn't understand what hunting had to do with this, but Ellen didn't sound particularly shocked or like a mental hospital rounder-upper.

Just try not to die. She'd keep that in mind for the next several days.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days almost to the hour, a knock came at Gemma's door. She gripped the baseball bat tightly in her hand as she cracked the door open.

The small blonde standing outside didn't look like any hunting buff Gemma had ever seen.

"I'm Jo Harvelle. Ellen sent me."

Gemma backed off, letting the younger woman in. She was tiny. And blonde. And looked like she should be skipping class for frat parties, not driving cross-country to visit crazy people.

"I'm Gemma, thanks for coming. You're a … hunter?"

"You don't need to be built like a moose to be good at this, ya know." Jo immediately started pulling supplies out of her bag. "I need you to tell me everything so we can figure out what's coming next."

Gemma started with the date from hell – literally – and recalled everything up to Castiel's bloody cameo and the construction site. The entire time Jo nodded, asked strange questions about sulphur and eye color, and looked entirely nonplussed. Apparently this was not her first rodeo.

Jo pulled out two large bags of salt and red paint. "First things first, we should demon-proof this place. It sounds like they'll be coming back and the angels are dangling you on a hook. That's not very angelic, is it?"

Gemma snorted, "None of this is what I thought it would be."

As the two women lined all the doorways and windows with salt, Jo explained some of the "basics." Like salt, which, in addition to being delicious, is also a natural paranormal repellent. And how demon possessions work, what kills them, Devil's traps and exorcisms.

"How much do you know about guns?" Jo asked after she was done painting the red monstrosity on Gemma's carefully polished hardwood floor.

"Three years on the battalion competition shooting team," Gemma unloaded the nearest pistol, disassembled and reassembled the weapon without pause. "I got a few medals."

Jo smiled, "Right on. Maybe you can teach me some tricky soldier skills later."

"Sailor, actually. I was a Seabee. We did all kinds of construction and engineering projects for the Navy."

Gemma fished two beers out of the refrigerator and tossed one to Jo. She took a few swigs before settling on the next question on her massive list. "So it sounds like these demons can just take people. They're really strong and hard to kill. Why don't they just possess me or whatever? Why go to all this trouble?"

"That's the million dollar question," Jo shrugged. "It sounds like they're getting orders from someone higher up the food chain. The real question though," Jo took a generous gulp of her beer, "is why the angels are going to let that happen. They must think that whoever is pulling the strings on this is a pretty big fish."

"Castiel seemed...I don't know, upset? Or whatever passes for upset for him. I think he was punished. Aren't angels even scarier than demons? He was beat up pretty bad."

"I don't know much about angels, don't get a chance to work with them too much. I do know that they run their business like an army, they don't have much of a sense of humor and they will do some extremely shady things in the name of God."

Gemma looked down at the near-empty bottle in her hands, remembering the brief jolt of electricity she'd felt when she touched Castiel. "You mean like treating me like a sacrificial lamb?"

"That's pretty much it," Jo tossed her bottle in the garbage. "They're more like 'big picture' guys. Kill one, save 1,000 logic."

"Are they like demons? Were they human once?"

The small girl shrugged again, "I don't think so. God made the angels before he made people. They have to possess humans to walk around the earth, but unlike demons, and some ex-boyfriends, they need consent to enter a person's body."

"The guy I saw as Castiel isn't actually Castiel? That's a person?"

"Yeah but like I said, the human vessel has to ask for the possession. They're usually very devout."

With the TV on, Gemma and Jo settled in the living room for a night of beer and weapons maintenance. Feeling so far behind the game for the past week, the familiar touch and smell of gun cleaning was like a balm. She was also unreasonably proud of herself for impressing Jo with her gun expertise.

A few hundred salt-packed buckshot rounds later, and Gemma had drifted off to sleep on the couch.

In her dreams, she was in Afghanistan. Again. Always. Her medication usually took the bite out of her dreams and left them as watery blurs of old memories, but Jo's visit distracted her from her normal routine. Tonight, though, she could smell it – the dirt, goat crap, burning trash, diesel fuel, body odor and sweat.

She would normally be the a-driver in a vehicle or supervising a project on an isolated outpost, but in tonight's dream she was alone in the desert. Camels loped in the distance, urged on by herders she could barely differentiate from the terrain.

Mountains spiked up around her, silent monuments to the human and earth-wrought turmoil that plagued the region.

A small Afghan boy materialized in the distance, moving toward her. Her heart sank, knowing how this dream would end.

"Where are we?" a husky voice from behind her, jerking her gaze away from the child.

"What the hell?" Gemma barked at her trench coat-ed companion, who peered thoughtfully at their surroundings. "This is a dream."

"It's one way I can communicate with you, privately," Castiel responded without looking at her. When he did, his brows furrowed together as he took in her appearance. "You look very small."

Gemma pursed her lips, then smiled softly, looking down at herself. She had always made a comical appearance in combat gear: 60lbs of armor, gear and weapons easily overwhelmed her 5'2" frame.

"Castiel, I'm 5'2". I look small in everything."

"This is your war," he nodded, seeming to gather a new appreciation for the dream. "You dream about this often."

"Not to change the subject or anything," Gemma cleared her throat, "but the whole dream thing. What are you doing in my dream? Wait, you come to my dreams often?" Her eyes widened at the prospect of what he may have seen.

The tall angel shook his head, "No, but I know everything about you. It's my job as a watcher. I'm here to ensure that you are taking the appropriate steps to protect yourself."

"Why couldn't you just, I dunno, zap to me like you did before? What do you mean you know everything about me? What's a watcher?" Gemma's brows wrinkled and she looked away, considering all the implications what "knowing everything" about her might mean.

"You ask a lot of questions for a soldier."

"I'm not a soldier," Gemma's jaw stiffened.

Castiel raised a single doubtful eyebrow, looking her up and down. "Your accoutrement would suggest otherwise. I am under strict orders to stay away from you. This is the best I can do, or the other angels will know."

The little boy was coming closer. His features were becoming more defined. The unnatural bulk under his sweater was growing more apparent.

"Jo Harvelle showed up today. She's explaining 'hunting' to me and painting demon-proofing around my apartment," Gemma's green eyes were now locked on the little boy.

"Good. She's a strong hunter and will guide you well."

Silence settled over the two of them, and Gemma realized Castiel was staring very intently at her face. She shifted uncomfortably, unable to tear her eyes off the child.

"You did the right thing," Castiel said bluntly. Her eyes got huge and she sucked in her breath sharply. "You had no other choice," his eyes drifted to the boy now jogging to them.

Gemma's shoulders drew back, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. "We always have a choice."

"Would you like me to take this dream from you?"

She looked at him fully in the face, finally. "You can do that?" It seemed like too much to hope for. It was more than she deserved.

"I can do a great many things," he said. "I have to go soon before the garrison notices I'm gone. I'll continue checking in. Call for me if you are in danger. The other angels may not help you," Castiel responded gravely.

"Call to you..." before she could finish the question, Castiel gently placed two fingertips on her forehead, and the dream vanished.

The smell of toast and coffee drug Gemma from the deepest sleep she'd had in years. _Who the hell..._

"Morning, sunshine," Jo called from the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind, I got hungry."

"Watcher..." Gemma struggled to remember the details of Castiel's dream visit. "He said he's a watcher."

"...What?" Jo paused, a piece of toast halfway to her mouth.

"The angel, Castiel, he came to me in my dream last night."

Jo smirked and arched a delicate blonde brow, "Kinky."

Gemma rolled her eyes, "No not like that. He like, made a cameo in my dream, to talk to me or something. He said he couldn't see me in person and he said he's a watcher. Does that mean anything to you?"

Jo shrugged with a mouthful of toast, chased by black coffee. "Not a damn thing, but that's what research is for."

A quick breakfast, a few hours pouring over the few books Gemma had acquired from the priest, and a few phone calls to someone named Ash, and the girls had some answers to the Castiel question.

"So watchers are basically your garden-variety guardian angel," Jo sat back from the table. "They used to take human vessels on the regular until a bunch of them mated with humans. Their offspring were abomination violent giant monsters, and God wiped them out with Noah's flood."

Gemma shook her head, "Noah? Seriously?"

Jo shrugged, "This is just what we have so far. Most of hunting is just research and sorting fact from myth."

Gemma sat back in her chair with a prolonged sigh. "So, now what? Do we just wait for demons to come knocking?"

"I'm not one for waiting," Jo smiled slyly.

Gemma smiled. Jo could be a girl after her own heart.

They perused the morning paper, made a few more phone calls to this Ash fellow before Jo sounded off triumphantly, "Perfect!"

"What are we doing?" Gemma was eager to leave the apartment, be mobile, accomplish something. She would normally be at work and hadn't taken this much time off since she started. She still wasn't sure what Jo was looking for, but anything had to be better than waiting to be attacked.

"Looks like a vengeful spirit inland from here. Shouldn't be too hard, and it'll get your feet wet with hunting," Jo was already shuffling the weapons into her bag.

"There are vengeful spirits? Ghosts?"

"Girl, in the past week you've met two angels and a demon. A little angry ghost is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Monsters are real," Gemma stood slowly, gripping the back of the chair. "Monsters are real."

"And don't you forget it," Jo laughed, tossing an extra duffel at the shorter girl, who caught it easily.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe you have a badge that says 'Connie Francis,'" Gemma laughed from the driver's seat of her Toyota Surf, making their way to a secluded wood. The body of their vengeful spirit was allegedly buried beneath the largest oak in the area. At least, that's what her killer sobbed out before Jo and Gemma left him in his prison cell with a circle of salt.

"My mom is pretty into the ladies of rock and roll," Jo explained. "Here," she pointed to a small turnout, "This is where he said to park."

The two women hopped out of the SUV with shovels, flashlights, salt, gas and matches.

Their dealings with Greg Miller had been brief and mostly uneventful – for them at least. His mother had appeared with promises to even the score and some scary special effects, but nothing else. She had already talked her two younger sons into gruesome suicides, and seemed to be saving the best for her eldest. Greg was the one who slit her throat, the other two just helped hide the body. After that Greg, had been quick to confess everything to the girls and the police.

_Family, man_.

"You do this with your mom?" Gemma hefted a bag of gear over her shoulder and prepared to move into the overgrown brush.

"Not exactly. She tried to send me to college, but it didn't stick," Jo scanned the area as they moved, looking for an oak that stood out from the rest. "She hates that I hunt, but she knows she can't stop me. I guess she'd rather be in my life, hating my job, then us not talking to each other, ya know? Besides, she raised me in a hunter bar and my dad was a hunter, what did she expect?"

The taller blonde led the way in silence only broken by the leaves and dirt they disturbed. Gemma didn't know much about family, except for the friends she'd made in the Navy. She had bounced from one foster home to another until she enlisted.

The only people who would care about her current whereabouts might be her coworkers, but only if she stayed on sick leave for much longer. Other than that, no one ever asked her where she was going or what she was doing. None of her foster families ever had. Not for the first time, Gemma felt very lonely.

The trees opened into a clearing, with a single, gigantic oak at the center.

"Winner winner, chicken dinner," Jo declared, throwing her extra gear to the side and preparing to dig. "You ever dig up a grave before?"

Gemma shrugged, "No, but I've dug some wells and made helicopter landing pads in the desert."

Jo pursed her lips thoughtfully, "You're oddly accepting of all this, you know that?"

Gemma searched the ground and determined the area with the least root growth – the place where it would have been easiest to dig a shallow grave last year.

"I was in the military, Jo. You learn to just roll with absolute insanity, or you drive yourself insane."

A few hours – and some wicked blisters on Gemma's hands – and the bones appeared in the dirt and mud. They carefully cleared them off, dumped a bag of salt on the corpse and topped it all off with a layer of fuel.

They stood at the mouth of the grave and Jo pulled out a small box of matches. Gemma cleared her throat uncomfortably, "Um, do we like, say something?"

"What like a curse?" Jo looked utterly perplexed and what could possibly be said at this moment.

"Just seems like this was too easy, I guess."

Jo's face fell, "Damn it, now you've done it!"

Before Gemma could verbalize the question, the ghost appeared between them, hissing and screaming in rage. Gemma felt herself get launched into the grave, cracking the back of her head against the face of the skull. She could hear Jo shouting something, but the world was spinning off kilter and she couldn't seem to get back on her feet.

Suddenly Jo's hand shot into sight. Gemma wasn't sure how she'd gotten to a standing position, but it wasn't the time to question it. With Jo's help, she rolled back onto level ground. As Gemma pushed herself back up, the ghost slammed Jo against the tree, screaming obscenities about unfinished business with her son.

The glint of a Zippo lighter in her bag caught her eye – it was now or never, while the ghost was distracted. With a flick of the wrist and a well-aimed toss, the woman's body was quickly engulfed. In an ethereal mirror of the earth-bound corpse, the ghost seemed to burn up, too.

"Nicely done," Jo said between gasping breaths, rubbing the back of her head where it had hit the tree.

They jerked in response to a slow, delicate clap that seemed to echo through the clearing.

A well-dressed, petite platinum blonde smiled at them. "That was very good," she said, her voice sickly sweet. She was flanked on either side by two very large men.

Gemma and Jo exchanged cautious looks, each gauging how quickly they could get the shotguns and other weapons in their bags.

"No need for that," the woman said, still smiling. "Boys, would you please restrain JoAnna?"

Before either girl could react, the men had Jo by each arm, flattened against the tree. Again. As she struggled, the woman raised her hand, "Don't hurt her. Gemma and I just need a few minutes to talk."

Gemma found herself adopting a braced, defensive stance, ready to dive for the duffel bags as soon as possible. She marveled at how the mystery woman moved so deftly through the brush and grass in a pantsuit and stilettos.

"That was your first ghost disposal. I'm so glad I could be here with you for it," the woman sounded genuinely pleased. "You and I can take care of so many problems in this world."

"Who the hell are you?" Gemma was keenly aware of the power radiating off the woman. And the mud that caked her own face and boots. And the blisters burning into her hands, reminding her that she was, definitely, human.

The woman reached a gentle, unblemished hand to Gemma's face, running a thumb down her cheek and smoothing back some of the unruly dark blonde curls. "I'm your family, Gemma."

Gemma stilled. "I don't have a family."

The woman shook her head sadly. "I thought the same thing, too, for a very long time. But then I found you. I've been looking for you for a very. Long. Time."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The woman looked down and smiled, blushing and still thumbing one of Gemma's curls. Something told Gemma that insisting on personal space might not go over well.

When she looked back up to Gemma's face, her eyes had clouded over completely white. Gemma gasped and tried to step back, but the woman held her by the shoulders in an iron grasp.

"You don't have to be afraid of family, Gemma," the woman's grip loosened, but not enough to allow Gemma to move. "I guess you would be a little nervous. The representative I sent to you last week didn't make a great impression, did he? It's impossible to find decent help these days."

"What are you?" Gemma was now trembling. The demon who had attacked her, starting all of this, had similar eyes, but they were all black.

"I've been called many things by many different peoples for thousands of years. You can call me Lilith."

"What do you want with me?"

Lilith chuckled placatingly, "We're family, Gemma. I want us to be together as family should."

A deep rustling and thunderous crack broke the moment. Gemma looked back to the tree where two demons held Jo. A silvery sword burst through the chest of one, as the trench-coated angel whipped around the flailing body, grabbing the other demon by his face and slamming him into the ground with a flash of white light and exploding earth.

Castiel stood to his full height, and Gemma could have sworn she saw the shadows of great, black wings flash behind him. He seemed so _tall_. And he was looking at Lilith with unadulterated, seething rage.

"Release her," he nearly growled. Castiel's grip shifted on his sword, telegraphing his intent.

Lilith rolled her eyes, "This is between me and mine. It doesn't concern the God Squad."

"It concerns me," Castiel took a side step closer.

A wicked smile lit up Lilith's face, "I'll bet it does. But not tonight, angel. Your little buddies are going to be pretty upset when they find out you went off script."

Something, maybe doubt, flashed across Castiel's face for a moment, before icy anger retook its place.

As if on cue, two men in simple suits appeared in the clearing, swords drawn. "Castiel!" one of them boomed, pulling Castiel's attention away from Lilith.

"I guess we'll continue this conversation later," Lilith shrugged, leaning in so close her lips grazed Gemma's ear. "I'll be seeing you."

In the same way Castiel could simply appear and disappear, Lilith was gone. Gemma rushed to Jo's side, who was staring wide-eyed at Castiel and the two newcomers circling each other threateningly.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Jo stood up on her own, leading the way as they quietly moved back to the bags. Each grabbed a shotgun, though neither thought it would do much good.

"You disobeyed Heaven again, Castiel," one of the angels shook his head. "Your orders were clear."

Castiel shook his head, "You believe Heaven would allow that abomination to take her?"

"That is not for us to ask," the other angel answered.

"I would hear these orders from Michael."

The first angel shook his head in disgust, "Who do you think you are, Watcher? You think you can continue taking liberties with your little pet," he spat in Gemma's direction. "You are done, Castiel."

The two angels changed their posture, preparing to fight. Castiel drew back in shock. "What are you doing?"

"Unlike you, we obey our orders. And orders were clear. If you interfere tonight, we are to relieve you of your duties," the second angel replied.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Castiel shook his head.

Without warning the second angel lunged forward and the first vanished from his position and reappeared behind Castiel.

Gemma and Jo exchanged a single nod and a "why not" shrug, and both started blasting shotgun rounds and the aggressor angels.

Although the second did not pause his attack, the first stopped before thrusting his blade forward and turned in utter astonishment to stare at Jo and Gemma.

"The audacity..." he sputtered. "You filthy, weak, whores!" He roared at them, changing direction to attack them. In his distraction, Castiel had easily dispatched the second angel.

Castiel appeared between the first angel and the girls, ramming his blade into his brother's chest.

Before being entirely consumed by white light, the dying angel gazed at Castiel, perplexed. "For her, brother?" And then he was gone.

The silence was broken by their shallow breathing, and the trio simply stood, staring at the bodies littering the clearing.

"So...is hunting a ghost always this exciting?" Gemma said dryly. After a pause, Jo chuckled. Then her shoulders shook with actual laughter.

"This was totally your fault. You had to say it," Jo said between chortles. "'It was too easy,' you just had to say it."

Gemma paused, remembering her self-prophesy, then burst into laughter. The girls continued giggling maniacally until they saw Castiel's grave expression. He was kneeling over the body of one of the angels, tucking the other's sword into his coat. He stood, bringing his cobalt blue eyes back to Gemma.

"I'm going to have to hide you," he strode purposefully to the women. "This is going to feel unpleasant."

Without further preamble, he stuck a hand into the diaphragm area of both Jo and Gemma. Jo's eyes widened in horror and Gemma felt a sickening sensation billowing through her chest cavity.

As soon as it had begun, it was over. Both women nearly collapsed from the shock of it.

"What the hell did you just do us?" Jo barked.

"I carved Enochian sigils onto your ribs to hide you from angels. I would recommend that you also both get anti-possession markings," Castiel explained, nonplussed.

"Enochian? What the hell is Enochian? Agh, fuck," Jo cursed, clutching her rubs and wincing.

"The language of angels. They will not be able to locate either of you now. I will have to use more direct communication to find you."

Gemma hissed, also grabbing at her ribs. "Maybe a little warning next time, Cas?"

Castiel looked confused, "I told you it would be unpleasant."

Gemma shook her head.

"So this is the angel?" Jo gestured at Castiel.

"That's the angel," Gemma straightened up, the pain residing. "What the hell just happened?"

"The demon Lilith seems to think very highly of you, and I appear to be cast out of Heaven," Castiel's eyes drifted upward, toward the stars filling the patch of exposed sky overhead.

"What does that mean? Are you not all angel-rific anymore?" Jo was already back to business, packing up the gear and handing a bag to Gemma.

Castiel looked around uncertainly, "I'm not sure. I still have my grace, but I am cut off from Heaven and the strength of the heavenly host."

"Did you get any of that?" Gemma turned to Jo.

Jo shrugged, "Bits and pieces. Grace, is that your angel juice?"

"It's not a beverage," Castiel stated, prompting a quizzical expression from Jo. "Grace is what makes us celestial beings. But without the support of Heaven, I will not be at full strength. I don't know any angels who have been cast out with their grace intact. I'm not sure what will happen."

Gemma took a deep, steadying breath. "Ok, how about we go back to my place and regroup. Try to talk some of this out -"

"No," Castiel cut her off. "You cannot return there. If angels aren't watching it, then Lilith's demons are."

Gemma looked to Jo for support, but all she had to say was, "I'm sorry, but he's right. I know you have this whole life, but it's not safe. We'll go to the Roadhouse."

Gemma considered all the times she had up and left without warned. All the times in her life that she had walked away without ever looking back. It was always toward the life she had right now. It had always been an effort to get to where she was _right now_.

Her emotional attachment to a white collar dream was overrun but the cold logic: her life just changed. Big time. She took a few deep breaths, looking down at her filthy clothing. Old work boots, well-worn jeans, a Sex Pistols t-shirt and an leather jacket. This was all she had now.

"C'mon, let's get back to the car," Jo urged her, placing a sympathetic hand on the other girl's shoulder. For the first time since they met, Gemma saw Jo. Gemma saw her tired, but determined eyes, laugh lines, oddly similar clothing choice, and the potential for a friend. Gemma nodded. It was time to go.

"Cas, are you going to come with us?" she asked.

"I need to find out more about Lilith and why she wants you. I'll call you on your cellular phone when I know something."

Gemma and Jo looked taken aback. "You know my cell phone number?" "You have a cell phone?" they asked simultaneously.

Cas looked confused. "I told you I know everything about you."

Jo wriggled a brow at Gemma. Castiel was gone in a blink.

"Dude, that angel has a crush on you."

"Please don't make this day any weirder than it already is."


	6. Chapter 6

Ash was just not what Gemma had expected. Jo said he was a genius who had wandered into the Roadhouse nearly ten years earlier with a guitar and a chip on his shoulder about higher education. Ellen tried to turn him away, but Ash caught wind of the hunter chatter. Before Ellen knew it, Ash was bar-backing and providing the best supernatural research this side of Bobby Singer, whoever that was.

Gemma thought he looked more Lynard Skynard reject than supernatural prodigy. He was wearing a flannel shirt with ripped off sleeves, and she couldn't keep her eyes from drifting to Ash's "business in the front, party in the back" haircut.

Somehow, of everything she'd experienced in the past week, Ash was definitely the most interesting.

Ellen, however, was exactly what Gemma had expected. About the same height as Jo, but with the fuller hips of a mother, her dark hair and gruff manner screamed "momma bear." Ellen showed Gemma to a spare bed in the attic, muttering about kids, strays and opening a hunter boarding house.

Before going back downstairs, Ellen placed a hand on Gemma's shoulder, replacing the rough and tumble hunter facade with the sympathy of a parent, "You're gonna be alright, kid."

Gemma could here their voices echoing in the empty bar downstairs. Apparently Sunday mornings were not popular drinking hours.

"What I'm saying is that if there is angel interest in this, it's not good," Ellen's voice declared. "They don't seem to want to help her, but this Lilith must be bad news if she's got angels worried."

"It could be even worse," Ash said. Gemma made her way downstairs and three pairs of eyes turned to her.

"How worse?" she asked.

"Maybe...apocalypse worse," Ash said solemnly.

Jo's faced scrunched up and she shook her head, "Why do you think that? She's just another demon."

"Ellen's right, the angels don't care about your run-of-the-mill demon activity," Ash took a swig of his beer. "And Lilith is far from being just another demon."

"What is she?" Ellen sat back in her seat, arms crossed across her chest.

"Everything I've found says she was the first woman."

Gemma sat down at the end of the booth, "Wasn't that Eve?"

"Nope," Ash took a long pull of the beer, finishing it. "Eve was the second wife. Lilith was created first, but Adam cast her out of the garden because Lilith wouldn't bow to him."

Jo placed her hands on the table, shaking her head again, "No no no. We are talking about the Bible. It's a myth. I'll accept angels as celestial soldiers or whatever, but you cannot be telling me that the Bible creation story is true."

Ash shrugged, "It's not, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have threads of truth in it. All myths come from somewhere right?"

"What would make Lilith such a big deal now, though?" Gemma asked, trying to keep the theology debate on track.

"That's the rub," he cheers'ed his empty bottle in Gemma's direction. "All the lore says that Lilith was the first woman, and that God created her as Adam's equal. When she was cast out, she boffed an angel or two before Lucifer fell from Heaven. She died and Lucifer took her under his devil wings and made her as the first demon. Some lore suggests that he made her in his image."

"As in, he made her like a demon-style angel?" Ellen ventured.

Ash shrugged again, "No idea. It's all lore and myth and whispers. For all I know, he made her with a demon face to match his. Maybe they never even met, who knows."

Ellen slid a tumblr in Gemma's direction, and poured a generous helping of whiskey. Gemma sipped it gingerly, savoring the slow burn down the back of her throat.

"What about this angel?" Ellen asked.

Jo and Ash both turned to look at Gemma, who was fiddling with the glass. "I don't know," she laughed bitterly. "I guess that's the song today. He said he was sent to watch me, and it seemed like he was arguing with other angels about interfering on my behalf."

"Mom, you should have seen it. He went all T-800 on Lilith's bodyguards, then even took out some underling angels to protect us," Jo perked up.

Ellen did not look pleased or amused by the story. "Dammit, Jo, I told you not to go looking for trouble. If that angel had followed his orders, I don't even..." she trailed off, shaking her head and grinding her teeth. "You said he was on orders to watch, not intervene, right? So why did he?"

Jo waggled her eyebrows at Gemma, who blushed and looked down before composing herself. "A very good question. The other angels were there to punish him for his disobedience. He said he was cast out of Heaven."

Gemma took another gulp of the whiskey, "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation." She pushed away from the table and paced near the bar. "The apocalypse? The devil? Are you freaking kidding me? This is insane."

The three at the table looked at each other for the best answer. Ash spoke up, "Look, I know. I get it. I walked into this stuff blind, too..."

"And you got attacked by demons and angels and the right hand of Satan?" Gemma snarked.

"No, you got me there," Ash fiddled with his empty bottle. "But I did jump in blind and swinging. This shit it weird, scary and gets a lot of people killed. You're in this game whether you like it or not. You can either hide in Bobby's panic room until Lilith busts your ass out, or you can -" he gestured to Ellen and Jo and the rest of the bar, "you know, join us or whatever."

A smile broke out on Gemma's face and Jo followed suit, refilling both their whiskey glasses and patting the end of the table Gemma had vacated.

"Game plan time," Ellen said. "Anti-possession tattoos, angel wards and more research. Ash, you still have your tattoo gun?"

A protest formed on Gemma's lips but Jo held up a reassuring hand, "In addition to being a genius, Ash is also an accomplished artist. He's done like three of mine."

Up until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Gemma that Jo had tattoos. Of course, Jo probably didn't realize that Gemma's shoulders, one hip and an ankle were already marked. You learn something new every day.

"In-house tattooing, I like it," Gemma nodded. "Maybe later we can hit the yard and turn our toothbrushes into weapons."

Ash rolled his eyes, "Oh ye of little faith."


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was setting, filling the sky with a rainbow of purples and oranges as it sank into the horizon. The lake lapped at the stoney shore and Gemma could hear birds chirping and wind gently shifting the leaves of the forest around her.

She took her usual seat on a fallen log to watch the sun set over the lake. It was still warm. She knew that when the light faded, it would turn cold, but then the stars would come out. There were so many stars over this lake, she could watch shooting stars fall out of the sky all night long.

The weight of the log shifted as a familiar figure in a trench coat sat next to her.

"I thought you couldn't find me now." It wasn't a question.

"No, but I can find your consciousness when you sleep," his gravelly voice replied. "I'm glad you are having more peaceful dreams."

Gemma closed her eyes and let the warm breeze wash over her. Disappointment sank in. Of course this was a dream. It was too good to be true. She turned to face him and met his eyes. His intense gaze still made her uncomfortable.

"Do you have anything?" she asked after a pause. The question appeared to shake him out of a thought and his shoulders slumped every so slightly.

"I know that Lilith wants to release Lucifer from Hell, using the 66 seals."

"I'm gonna have to look that one up on my own, right?"

Castiel looked at her sideways, the faintest hint of a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. "I have to convey information that raises more questions than answers. I try to give you the most important pieces."

They both looked back to the fading sun. "What about you? What's happened to you now that you're out of Heaven?"

Castiel sighed, "My powers are significantly weakened, but I am still an angel. The limited intelligence I've gathered leads me to believe that while neither of us are popular in Heaven right now, we're not being actively hunted. They are more focused on protecting the seals and stopping Lilith. No one knows why Lilith is interested in you."

Gemma nodded, looking down at the beach stones, smoothed by thousands of years of water lapping away their rough edges.

"Why have you been helping me, Castiel?"

The angel pursed his lips and his eyebrows drew together. He took a long time to reply, all the while his eyes moved back and forth across the skyline, like the answer might appear to him.

"I..." he began slowly, "I have been a soldier for eons. My entire existence has been to follow orders and help Heaven maintain control over humanity. I have been instructed to do countless things that I did not fully understand, because it was the will of God and the archangels."

The timbre of his voice seemed to echo in Gemma's skin. The word "eons" brought to mind images of stars being born and dying, the first creatures to crawl out of the oceans, the first humans...

"I have never questioned my orders," Castiel locked eyes with Gemma, and she could feel the weight of his words. As something of a soldier herself, she understood the significance of questioning the higher command. Though as a human, she knew that her understanding fell short.

"And then I was instructed to watch you and report back. I saw you. I saw everything. I saw your past and your present. The Watchers have not taken vessels and interacted directly with their charges for thousands of years. For the first time in two millenia, I...I felt." He abruptly looked away, jaw and shoulders tense.

Gemma tilted her head, "What did you feel?"

"Human," he almost whispered. "I felt doubt, and sympathy. When I saw you with that demon, I felt fear and anger. I was angry that my brethren would so callously disregard a life. I began to doubt the source of my orders and my brothers' intentions."

She felt her mouth go dry. It must be overwhelming to _question_ for the first time. To _feel_ for the first time.

Without warning, Castiel took one of Gemma's hands in his own and faced her squarely, "Gemma, it is extremely important that you understand the gravity of the situation. I believe Heaven is corrupt. I don't know why, but our Father has been absent for several thousand years. The archangels make decisions on behalf of God. I think...I think they may be giving orders to meet their own ends."

The warmth of his hands around hers tugged at Gemma's attention. She blinked and looked down at their hands, but Castiel didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "Does that mean bad news?" she asked plaintively.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I don't know. I do know that they are misleading the garrison, but not why. You should know that I didn't tell them that Lilith called you family," Castiel answered. "I'm looking into that as well."

He dropped her hand and shifted back to his original position. Gemma suddenly felt cold, noticing that the sun had dropped out of the sky and the stars will filling in the darkness.

"Castiel?"

"Yes, Gemma?"

"Sometimes I dream that I've gone to work naked. You aren't going to show up in any of those dreams, are you?"

That faint, barely perceptible smile creeped onto his face as he shook his head. "I will show discretion and respect your privacy, Gemma. Although, I have seen all human bodies and I believe the concept of shame is uniquely human."

She tried to control the smile on her own face at his logic. "Thanks, Cas."

Three months went by at the Roadhouse with only a handful of dream-visits from the angel. The four of them settled into a routine of sorts: between hunting jobs, Gemma helped the Harvelle's and Ash around the bar, serving drinks and food. When they got word of a local job, Jo and Gemma were out the door.

In three months, Gemma and Jo had slayed two vampires, put three ghosts to permanent rest and even killed a nest of ghouls. With Lilith on the lose breaking seals, supernatural activity was at a peak.

Castiel had advised (ordered) Gemma to stay away from all hunting activities, but most importantly to avoid contact with demons lest they recognize her. Since Castiel was not "the boss of us," according to Jo, they continued the local hunting efforts.

Ellen and Ash agreed that with a pending apocalypse and interest from such a powerful demon, Gemma could benefit from the experience.

She had to admit, hunting gave her a rush she had only ever felt in combat. Stepping out of the Surf, not knowing what they were walking into, just the adventure of something so dangerous and new gave her a thrill. Gemma didn't have a death wish, but knowing that it was kill or be killed was an unparalleled exhilaration.

It was bloody work, but Gemma had never entertained a weak constitution.

The morals of supernatural hunting seemed simpler so far. They were the undead, monsters that were tormenting, hurting or even killing people. They were not farmers terrorized into supporting tyrants or misguided youths defending their homes.

They weren't children shoved into the path of an oncoming war machine, crying and reaching for his parents.

It was near closing time, and a group of diehards was still nursing beers and chicken wings in the back. Gemma had been waiting on them for hours, keeping their glasses full and bringing a constant rotation of fresh wings, fried pickles and dips.

She noticed that the check she'd dropped off earlier had money on it. _Thank God_, she thought before smirking to herself. _Well, I guess not God_.

The hunters ambled out the door with hearty goodbye's and a few lingering looks in Gemma's direction. Where Jo was tall and lanky, Gemma was all compact curves and stocky, muscular legs. Though she was always trying to lose that last five pounds and she would never grace any modeling agencies, her shape had always attracted men in the very worst ways.

With a dish bin and a rag, she began cleaning up their table as soon as they were out the door. Gemma's eyes fell to a worn leather wallet. _Shit_. She grabbed it and made for the door, hoping that they hadn't driven off yet.

Gemma found the five of them gathered around a black Chevy van, sharing a cigarette and laughing about a recent hunt. They turned their attentions toward her when they heard her approach.

"Hey there, little lady, couldn't resist joining us?" the tallest (fattest) one said. She thought she'd heard them call him Rick. The other men chuckled, staring a little too long.

She thrust the wallet out, "One of you left this at the table." Gemma forced a smile, trying to be friendly without being inviting. Gary reached forward, taking it from her and sliding his chubby fingers across her hand in the process. Gemma thought of the way Castiel had taken her hand; the way it had felt warm and safe. She shuddered involuntarily and pulled away. "Drive safe, guys."

One of the other hunters put a hand on her arm to stop her from walking back. "C'mon, share a smoke with us," he drawled.

Shaking her head, she continued backing away, "No, thanks, I gotta get back in and clean-" a sickening crack sounded from the back of head. A blinding flash of pain, moment of frightened confusion and her world went black.


	8. Chapter 8

_******CONTENT WARNING******__ This chapter deals with physical and sexual assault. If you are sensitive to these issues, skip ahead about half way through the chapter, or skip this one altogether._

_Oh, fuck, my head_, Gemma's thoughts hazed out of the darkness. As the blackness faded, she became aware of the flickering fluorescent light overhead. She also became aware that she was sitting and her arms were bound behind the chair with rough-spun twine. Everything hurt.

Blinking a few times, her eyes adjusted to the light. Gemma ventured a peak at her surroundings and saw that she appeared to be in a barebones shed. Tin walls, tin roof, dirt floor. It smelled like horse shit and mold.

_What the hell happened_? She could vaguely remember closing up Harvelle's, then, for some reason, needing to go out front.

"Sleeping Beauty's awake, boys," a thickly-accented voice broke the silence. Five men shuffled into view and suddenly Gemma remembered: the fat one, Rick, had been the ring leader. They had sat in a corner booth for hours just waiting for everyone else to clear out. They had left that wallet on purpose, knowing she'd come outside looking for them...her stomach flipped, either from the head injury or the terror quickly taking root in her mind.

No one knew where she was. Jo and Ash hadn't recognized these guys. They paid in cash. _She_ didn't even know where she was. The Enochian carvings on her ribs would keep Castiel away, unless she could pass out again, dream, and hope he came calling for the first time in weeks.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_. She twisted her wrists against the ropes, gauging their strength as Rick sidled up to her.

"So you're the one Lilith wants so badly, huh?" he leaned in close enough that she could smell the beer and buffalo sauce on his breath. His sausage-like fingers reached out to stroke her face and hair. "You wanna tell us why?"

Gemma forced the bile back down her throat, using every mental resource she had left to keep herself from crying and losing all control. "No," she choked out.

One of the men chuckled and Rick smiled, "That's fine, we all kinda hoped you would make this difficult."

Rick pulled a large, gleaming hunting knife out of his belt while taking a generous tour of her chest. Gemma steeled her jaw, refusing to let the tears fall. "We just wanna stop the apocalypse, Lil' Bit. Don't you wanna stop the apocalypse?"

She remained silent, staring at the wall, trying to imagine the lake and the sunset. _They're not going to believe anything I say, and I think they don't care_.

Rick pressed the knife into her cheek, drawing blood. Gemma squirmed and tried to keep the cry of pain in as best she could. "That demon bitch is breaking seals left and right, and we all know you know something about that. Hell, I think you may be a seal yourself," he pressed the knife into her other cheek, giving her a matching gash.

With blood now dripping down her face, neck and staining her favorite Rolling Stones shirt, Gemma kept her jaw wired shut.

"I'll get this bitch to talk," one of the other men strode forward, punching her across her left eye without pausing his momentum. Her shoulders shook with the effort of containing her cries. "Maybe she'll talk if I open her mouth a little," the man smirked and began to undo his belt. Rick held out a hand to stop him.

"No, no, no. If anyone gets to have her first, it's me," Rick smiled and winked at her. "Maybe we should just summon Lilith right now. Cut a deal. We give her you," he tapped the knife against Gemma's forehead, "and she makes sure we're sitting pretty after she lets Lucifer out of his cage."

"Yeah Rick, I think that's a great idea," a third man spoke up from the corner. He seemed to be enjoying watching this process. "We got something she wants."

Rick shrugged at Gemma, running the sharp edge of the knife down her throat to the collar of her shirt. He began to sink it in with more pressure, shredding the fabric.

_I'm watching the sunset with a gorgeous angel and he's holding my hand_, she repeated over and over in her head, trying to remember every detail of the dream. Until this moment, she had forcefully ignored any thought that she found Castiel even remotely attractive. They weren't the same species, and that body wasn't even his.

But right now, she didn't have anything to lose. _Might as well enjoy it_.

_Wait. Castiel_. Something about the thought of him was scratching at the corners of her memories. Something he had said. It was so hard to think, though. Her head hurt from now multiple blows. Her body was sickened by the hands taking too many liberties with the exposed skin on her chest.

_Call to me_, he had said. What the hell did that mean? She still didn't know if he even had a phone, and god only knows where her own phone was at the moment. _Call to me_. How do you call an angel?

Rick and the boys were laughing and talking about what they were going to do to her while they prepared a time and place to summon Lilith.

"Girl, you better pray and make your peace with God," one of the men declared, prompting a fresh round of laughter.

_Pray. Pray to Castiel_. It was worth a shot.

Gemma's eyes focused on Rick for the first time since regaining consciousness. "Castiel," she spoke, barely above a whisper. Her voice felt weaker than it ever had.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Rick wasn't smiling anymore.

Emboldened, Gemma sat up straighter in her chair and dug into her diaphragm to find her voice. "CASTIEL," she growled in Rick's face, spraying him with blood and spit.

The men all fell silent, then began muttering amongst themselves. "What the fuck is she talking about?" "Man, you must've hit her too hard." "This bitch is nuts."

The familiar rustle of fabric and feathers hit Gemma's ears. It was the greatest sound she'd ever heard.

Castiel was filling the room, and visibly seething. In a flash, he had released her from her bindings and brought her to stand. He jerked her around and pressed her head into his chest. "Cover your eyes," she could feel his voice rumbling in his chest and she pressed her face in tighter. It was not the time to ask questions.

Even with her face covered, she could feel the light flooding the shed. It burned, everything felt unbearably hot for a moment. Gemma dug in closer to Castiel, gripping his coat lapels in an effort to get even closer and to help herself stand.

Then the light was gone. Gemma felt the floor shift beneath her feet; she was now standing on the wood floor of Harvelle's. In a fluid movement, Castiel scooped Gemma off her feet and was pressing two fingertips to her forehead.

As if nothing happened, the pain was gone. The wounds on her cheeks were gone, the back of her head and the side of her face felt fine, she even felt like she could stand. Maybe.

"Holy shit, they're here! Mom, get Ash, they're here!" Jo's voice rang out through the bar as she rushed to where Castiel was now gingerly setting Gemma in a booth. "What happened? Are you okay? Was it Lilith?"

Gemma stared at Jo for a moment, trying to find the words. Jo looked like she was wavering between terror and rage.

"They were hunters," Castiel didn't take his eyes off of Gemma. His voice was rough and measured, like he was trying to stop himself from yelling. "They were humans."

Jo's face fell and her shoulders dropped. She searched for an answer. That couldn't be right, could it? But it could, she realized. Jo grew up around hunters and she knew firsthand how cold, calculating and downright evil they could be. She brought her eyes back up to Gemma, "I'm so sorry."

Gemma nodded weakly. She suddenly realized that her shirt had been cut open almost to her navel as Ellen and Ash jogged into the bar. Jo saw where Gemma's gaze had drifted and she removed her plaid shirt, tucking it over Gemma's front. Gemma nodded, grateful.

Ellen and Ash rushed to the table, then paused to take in the man in the trench coat, covered in blood.

For the moment, Ellen ignored the trench coat to check on Gemma, "Dammit, kid, you're not allowed to that to us again." She brought Gemma in for a tight hug, much to Gemma's surprise. After a moment of confusion, she relaxed and hugged her back.

Then Jo jumped into the hug, bringing the three of them to a moment of laughter before separating again.

Ellen looked to Jo who said, "Castiel said it was hunters. He said humans did this."

"Is that true, Gemma?" Ellen felt her heart sinking. Hunters weren't always the best people, but snatching one of their own out of a parking lot was low.

Gemma nodded. "It was that last table, five guys, one named Rick, they shouldn't be too hard to find."

"They will be impossible to find," Castiel rumbled. The group turned to where he stood, still watching Gemma as if she might break. He was, most definitely, covered in blood. Gemma's jaw fell, "Is that what you did...?"

The angel's eyes shifted downward to take in his appearance. With a single look, he was spotless again. "Those hunters are dead."

"I think we figured that," Ash quipped. "Why the hell would they take her?"

"They thought they could use me against Lilith, or to make a deal with Lilith. I don't think even they knew," Gemma mumbled.

Castiel moved a step closer to Gemma, between Jo and Ellen. "I should take you upstairs. She needs rest and there is nothing that needs to be discussed until tomorrow," he said in Ellen's direction, who reluctantly nodded her consent, ushering Jo and Ash out of the way.

While Ellen was directing Jo and Ash to make some snacks and drinks to bring to Gemma's attic room, Castiel held out his hand to Gemma.

She took it without question.

Castiel sat next to Gemma on the bed, who sat with her back pressed against the wall, not ready to go to sleep yet.

She noticed that he sat awkwardly. Hell, except for fighting, the man did everything awkwardly. She smiled a little, pointing to the way her feet were crossed beneath her and how she was resting with her back against the wall. Being noticeably taller, Castiel only had to lean back to rest his posture. He looked back at her for approval, which she gave with a soft smile and a nod.

"You know," she began, "you know what I've done. I've always taken care of myself and defended myself. I beheaded a vampire last month. I've fought monsters and men my entire life. Why -"

"You weren't expecting and attack," he cut her off. "You had know way of knowing their ill intent." Castiel's expression was unreadable. "You were outnumbered and unarmed."

Gemma looked away, still trying to comprehend the last several hours. "But..."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," his voice pulled her back to look at him again. She still had Jo's shirt clutched at her front.

Shame. She had plenty to be ashamed of. Gemma realized she was shaking, but she didn't want to move.

Castiel's eyes flickered, "Are you still feeling unwell?"

Gemma opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, Ellen tapped on the door. "I brought you a sandwich, some cookies and a jug of water, kid." She set the plate and jug on the makeshift table Gemma had moved next to the bed. "This must be the angel. Do you mind if I steal him for a minute?"

Gemma shrugged noncommittally as Castiel looked at her for permission to leave. He seemed to consider telling Ellen no, but Gemma forced a smile and gestured for him to follow Ellen back downstairs.

Back in the bar, Ellen turned to Castiel, who nearly barreled into her back he was following so closely in a fatigued daze.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" she said, backing into a bar stool.

Castiel paused, clearly unsure if he should mimic her posture the way Gemma had suggested earlier. "Five hunters took her to a shed on an abandoned lot. The wounds I healed were of torture, and I believe they..." he swallowed before continuing, "they molested her before she called to me."

"And they're now dead?"

Darkness clouded his eyes, "I vaporized them."

Ellen arched a brow and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, unsure what to say. She settled on a stiff nod, "Good. What did they want?"

"Like Gemma said, they seemed to think she could be used to broker a deal with Lilith."

Ellen eyed the angel up and down suspiciously. "Why do you look like you're about to fall down?"

Castiel gulped again and shook his head, "I appear to be growing weaker by the day. I may have used...excessive...force on those men. Having to travel so quickly, in rapid succession, and then healing her, it's exhausted my energy. My power is no longer what it was, and I need more time to recover. I even..." he trailed off, dropping his head in shame. "I've felt fatigue and hunger."

"This is new for you?"

"Angels do not sleep or eat. We are not human. I am not human, so these feelings are foreign and wrong." He sat back on a bar stool, hands clasped in his lap. His blue eyes searched the floor nervously, "I don't know if I'll continue to get weaker. I may be no use to you all in this fight," he stared intently at Ellen, who didn't betray any reaction.

"You ever going to tell us what this fight is? We know there are 66 seals to free Lucifer, what else? How do we stop it?"

"There are hundreds upon hundreds of seals. Lilith only needs to break 66 to free her maker."

"Did it occur to you guys that is a shitty lock system?"

Castiel's gravelly voice choked out a strangled bark of laughter. He seemed surprised himself, but he continued to chuckle disjointedly. "I believe they are learning that now, as Lilith continues to break seals."

"You have a very strange sense of humor, Trench Coat," Ellen rose and moved behind the bar to pour herself a drink. "How many seals are down?"

"Twenty-three." Castiel looked down at his coat and his lips formed a small pout. "I like this coat," he raised his eyes back to Ellen. Now it was her turn to chuckle from behind her drink.

"Why haven't your winged friends just killed her?"

"They do not appear to be my friends anymore," Castiel shook his dark, messy head ruefully. "Lilith was powerful as a human, and Lucifer turned her into something nearly unstoppable. She has warded herself and her minions against angels. They don't know where she will be to stop her."

Castiel's eyes flickered overhead. Without another word, he vanished and reappeared in the attic next to Gemma's bed.

He stood over her sleeping form, head tilted quizzically. He recalled the way he felt his vessel's heart thundering in his chest when he arrived at the shed and assessed the situation. He felt the white hot rage that drove him to use one of his most powerful celestial weapons against mere human men.

It was strange. He wondered if this is what had driven Lucifer out of the fold. Angels were not emotionless, but he understood that they experienced emotions differently than humans. He had seen his brothers and sisters experience doubt and anger, especially when Lucifer fell, and then again when their father vanished. He remembered his brothers who had spawned the nephilim and the things they said before being cast out.

Angels who experienced the human degrees of happiness and anger all inevitably fell. He was already halfway there.

The urge to brush one of her wild curls struck him. He pushed it down. It must be a vestigial instinct in his vessel. The soul of his vessel, Jimmy Novak, was in Heaven. He had been near death when Castiel came to him and had welcomed an early invitation to peace.

Castiel found it difficult to understand the urges of his vessel. Where did his own celestial essence end and the humanity begin?

He pondered these questions for the rest of the night. Castiel watched her sleep, periodically touching her forehead to quiet a nightmare. Gemma would wake up well-rested in the morning and ready to rejoin the fight.


	9. Chapter 9

"If you're going to use an angel blade, you need to know how to use it correctly," Castiel practically growled, turning a scolding eye to Jo who was taking a few experimental swings with her new favorite toy. "It is _not_ an axe or club."

Jo smirked, "C'mon Clarence, you gotta admit this thing is way cool."

Castiel's face fell into consternation and Gemma giggled. He was always grumpy, but his grumpy face never failed to make her smile. It was like watching a frustrated puppy.

"My name is not Clarence," he declared under his breath to no one in particular. Castiel had brooded for about a day before deciding that the two angel blades – the ones he had taken from the corpses of his former brothers – would be useful weapons for Jo and Gemma. Castiel determined that most of his powers remained in tact; he could still travel at will, heal minor wounds, enter a dreaming person's consciousness; he was still preternaturally strong and fast and almost impervious to wounds. But it was all just a bit _harder_ than he remembered. He felt fatigue after the most basic healing and traveling great distances; he felt like he had to recover. He hadn't found an opportunity to test just how limited his healing ability had become. It was very vexing.

More importantly, he was feeling his vessel. The strings that had held his celestial form in place now felt like ropes growing tighter by the day. Castiel had always felt the various mortal compulsions of his vessel, but they were easily ignored. Until now. Hunger pangs were driving him to distraction. Though he couldn't be truly hurt, per se, Castiel felt pain from common wounds.

From time to time, he caught a scent of Gemma – maybe her soap, he didn't really know – or their hands would touch, and his vessel's hands became sweaty. He could feel his skin flush and his heart rate increase. That was the most vexing. Was his vessel sick? Castiel didn't know what being sick actually felt like, but he assumed this was it. Why nearness to Gemma would cause him illness, he couldn't grasp. It wouldn't do any of them good if he died from a common illness.

"As you can see," Castiel attempted to draw their attention back to the lesson, "unlike a traditional human weapon, our swords have four blades. You have four cutting edges instead of two."

Gemma tested the weight of the blade in her hand. She didn't know a damn thing about swords, but she guessed that these were perfectly balanced.

"So you don't have a bludgeoning edge?" Jo asked.

"Correct," Castiel nodded. "You have 360-degrees of use with this sword. It won't do you any good to bludgeon an angel or a demon. You have to go for killing blows only."

Cas reached forward and made a subtle adjustment to Jo's grip. Gemma mimicked the adjustment so when Castiel turned to her, he simply nodded his approval.

Teaching was both frustrating and pleasing to Castiel. This wasn't a skill he ever learned, it was bestowed to him. It was both part of his grace and part of the fact that he understood this body like a machine. He didn't understand the intricacies of mortality, of course, but he understood the bones and muscles and tendons. He knew that when combined with his otherworldly essence, he could make the vessel do whatever he wanted it to do.

Communicating how to move and react with the swords to two mortal women was another story. However, he found that by concentrating very hard, he could accurately explain _what_ he was doing and why it was important. Gemma and Jo learned quickly and were soon mimicking his every move.

Castiel smiled. Perhaps, perhaps they would beat this.

* * *

Jo was not smiling. The sword practice had been fun, but she could live without the dawn wakeup call. Then, the roadhouse was packed all day. She and Gemma hadn't found a moment to sit, let alone eat, since shortly after their little training session.

Jo's dogs were barking, as they say. She tried a few days ago to talk Gemma into taking over bar-backing duties from Ash and letting Ash wait a few tables, but Gemma wouldn't hear it. Jo could sympathize all day long with not wanting to look weak in front of other hunters, but after what Gemma had been through...Jo felt an involuntary shudder work down her spine.

Ellen had taught Jo well. They were in this world and there was no getting out, but that didn't mean that all hunters were family. That also didn't mean that all hunters were _evil_. The faces of friends she'd made over the years passed through her eyes. Some were downright family, others were just acquaintances she might call for a favor or help on a job. Some she would chase out of the bar with a gun. But not evil.

Now any of them could be _evil_.

"Ugh," Gemma groaned from the booth she was cleaning. "No more," she slid to lay down on the seat, throwing an arm over her eyes.

Jo smiled and wiped down the other seat, plopping down across from her friend. "I want to drink, but I don't want to get up." The younger blonde's face sobered up, "How you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Gemma sat up, avoiding eye contact. "Just tired."

"C'mon Gemma," Jo began, "I know I grew up in this life, but I do know what it's like to be blindsided. This is all scary as hell, then a bunch of hunters..."

Gemma pushed herself out of the booth, "The world is a fucked up place, Jo. I didn't have to meet a demon to find that out."

The two women stared at each other in stoic silence. They both knew they were neck-and-neck for personal tragedies. They both knew that neither thought it was a competition. Jo relaxed against the booth. "I just...you're not alone in this."

A hint of a smile crept at Gemma's lips. "I'm getting that impression." Gemma poured herself a generous tumbler of whiskey. Jo resisted the urge to tell Gemma to put the bottle down. A few glasses of whiskey after closing had become a routine for them, though Jo knew it was for different reasons. Jo never finished her glass. Gemma did.

The sound of shuffling feet entered the bar, followed by Ellen's husky voice. "Pour me a glass, kid."

Castiel tilted his head curiously at the bottle Gemma was pouring. Apparently Jo wasn't the only one taking note of Gemma's new habit.

The jukebox kicked on as Ellen selected a few songs. "Sit your feathery ass down, Castiel," she directed as she pulled out a set of shot glasses. Cas plopped onto the nearest barstool, looking bewildered. Ellen slid four glasses between them and filled each one with tequila. She slammed one down with a wince, groan and then gestured for Castiel to do the same.

Five shots later (Ellen was feeling generous with the Don Julio this evening), Ellen, Jo, Gemma and Ash were staring slack-jawed at Castiel.

"Do you even feel that, man?" Ash asked through a suspicious squint.

Cas shrugged, "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. This beverage is disgusting."

The girls chuckled and Ellen looked offended. "That is my best tequila, ass. No more for you," she pulled the glasses away and dumped them into a wash bin, shaking her head and muttering about ingrates before heading to the storeroom.

Gemma poured herself another glass, watching Castiel ponder the intricacies of alcohol. "I would have to drink gallons to experience inebriation."

Jo frowned thoughtfully, "That can be arranged."

"Maybe we shouldn't encourage the angel to take up alcoholism," Ash piped up.

Gemma toasted her glass to Ash, "Everyone, listen to the prodigy. Alchie angel is a terrible idea."

Castiel continued to watch Gemma with a slight tilt to his head, his blue eyes squinting in concentration. "If you believe becoming inebriated is a bad idea, why have you been doing so every night this week?"

Gemma sputtered on the drink that was halfway down her throat.

"And that's our cue," Jo pushed and pulled Ash out of the bar without protest. Gemma finished the rest of her glass after getting her coughing under control.

"Your eyes are dilated and don't seem to be focusing, your skin is flushed, why are you making yourself ill?" Castiel reached forward as if to touch her forehead and heal her, but she batted his hand away.

"I'm fine, Cas," she slipped behind the bar to pour herself another glass. And to put a physical barrier between them. "I'm not sick, I'm just...I can't sleep. This mellows me out."

He looked taken aback, "If you were having trouble sleeping, I could..."

"No," she cut him off. "You can't just magic this away."

Castiel's brow furrowed at this statement. "But my way seems healthier..."

She slammed the glass down, "Would you stop? You can't fix everything," she said as she marched out of the bar.

Sitting on her bed in the attic, nursing scotch out of the bottle, Gemma still couldn't stop shaking. How dare he. _Oh, I'm an angel of the Lord, I'm so good and healthy I only shop at farmer's markets and eat free-range chickens_. _Jerk_.

_Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just not dealing with being demon bait and sexual assault like a well-balanced celestial being. Excuuuuuse me_.

Thirty minutes later, when she heard the rustle of wings, Gemma's grip tightened on the bottle. Maybe if she threw it at him...her eyes widened in shock when he stumbled a bit, catching himself on the dresser Ellen had moved into the room.

"What the hell happened to you?" Gemma took in his appearance – more disheveled than usual. His hair was sticking up at all angles, one corner off his shirt was untucked and he appeared to have some stains down his trench coat.

"I've learned a lot these past weeks," he spoke slowly. "I know when you think I don't understand." He was now fiddling with the edge of the dresser, pulling at the fake wood paneling. "So, I became inebriated to understand why you do this."

At this, Gemma set her own bottle down and pushed herself off the bed. He was stumbling and slurring badly. "How did you even do this?"

"I went to a winery," he declared gravelly. "I drank several barrels." He swayed closer to Gemma and she caught him by the shoulders, trying to guide him to sit on the bed. Castiel leaned in closer to her as she pulled him toward the bed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "You smell like wildflowers and rain."

Gemma froze, then shook her head, pushing him down to sit. He slumped back against the wall like a sack of potatoes.

"You said," he frowned, shaking his head, "you said this 'mellows' you. I feel anxious and angry. This is extremely unpleasant."

Gemma snorted at him. "I remember my first beer," she said nostalgically.

He focused his eyes on her with a look of unadulterated pain, "Why do you do this to yourself? Why won't you let me help you?"

"Okay, first of all, I don't get sloppy drunk. I drink enough to calm my nerves so I can sleep. Second, I appreciate what you did with my dreams and … everything else, but it's called being human, Castiel." Gemma took a seat next to him. "We have to deal with things."

Castiel took her hands in his, still maintaining the intense eye contact Gemma found unnerving. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. I should have been there to stop it. I should know more about Lilith. I should be able to help you. I..." he trailed off, his eyes shifting to her hands in his. "These are very small," he turned her hands about in his own, bringing one closer to his face for a more detailed inspection.

Gemma gulped and tried not to think about how nice his calloused hands felt on hers. She smiled, "Well, wouldn't I look silly with big paws like yours?"

A flash of disturbed confusion flashed across Castiel's face before he broke into a smile and a bark of laughter, "Yes! Yes, that would be comically disproportionate."

Gemma snorted at him, "You know, you can just laugh, you don't have to explain why it's funny."

They fell into a peaceful silence, Castiel still examining her hands. That was when Gemma noticed she wasn't shaking anymore. Her eyelids felt so heavy.

"I'm sorry I couldn't prevent..." Castiel paused when he felt the weight of Gemma's head fall on his shoulder. Her hair cascaded around her. Yes, she definitely smelled like wildflowers and rain. Castiel wondered how long he would feel the effects of the wine.

He couldn't do anyone any good if he was this easily distracted.


End file.
